Are You Dealing With A Hater or A Confused Fan?

In another iteration of my career, I was working for the former Gizmodo Media Group (RIP!) as editor-in-chief of The Root, and I noticed in Slack quite a few female staffers lamenting the abuse they often received online, usually from men spewing expletives and slurs. After seeing so many women, many of whom were women of color, upset over this I decided to tell a story from my early days as a journalist that summed up my view of online stalkers, haters, and trolls.

When I was a staff writer at The Bakersfield Californian, I launched their first-ever blog. I also wrote two entertainment columns and did snarky reviews of bars and community theater. In a short time, because of my wit and creativity, I became a very popular writer at the paper. But since popularity breeds all kinds of unwanted attention, I attracted a very, very determined troll. They would stalk my blog and write hateful comments. They would harass other writers at the paper with mean emails and offensive rants. Most of it was nonsense, but a lot of it was rooted in racism and misogyny. It bothered my peers who were being harassed by this person, but not me so much. After all, at my old college paper where I was editor-in-chief, I used to get snail mail from the Ku Klux Klan. So, some dork on the internet meant nothing to me, no matter how hateful he was. I typically didn’t respond to his comments no matter what he said and laughed off most of the petty insults.

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After trolling most of the front-facing female writing staff of the paper for months, I got an email from him. In it, he said who he was, used his real name and email, and stated that he was going to stop “trolling” me. His reasons were simple — he actually enjoyed my writing, whether he agreed with it or not, as he also desired to be a writer and have a platform of his own. He admitted he was in the wrong, but still ranted about some of the other women at the paper. It was at this moment I realized that the vast majority of trolls were simply confused, oft jealous fans. They desired our voice, our platform, our influence, our power and resented that a space once reserved largely for white men was now being occupied by women and people of color. But, as I’ve always believed if you think you can do my job, come get it! Beat me at it! But of course, they, or this guy in this case, could not. He wasn’t as smart or as clever as me. He wasn’t as dedicated or as much of a hustler. He couldn’t be in the spotlight but he could be a heckler in the crowd, lobbing virtual tomatoes.

I didn’t really respond to this email either, (because who cares!) despite its somewhat conciliatory tone, and forgot about it completely until all my old emails at work were wiped out in a glitchy server migration. And even though the troll said he’d stop trolling me, he almost immediately, after a few weeks, started backsliding. I told another woman at the paper about what he had written to me and she lit up, wishing I still had the email so she could finally get this guy — her husband was a police officer who quite badly wanted to get involved on her behalf, as the troll had really gotten under her skin.

So I told her what I told those women in the Slack room at GMG — these a-holes are fans!

Once you realize that you’re being harassed by a bunch of miserable, talentless hacks who can’t compete, who actually would be miserable if you went away because their hate is what’s keeping them alive, it really changes your perspective. After all, as I told my co-workers, how much time do you spend on things you don’t enjoy?

I spend none.

If I read a writer and don’t like the writing I simply don’t read them again! I don’t spend months spamming them and creating fake accounts in their name to malign their character. A person who does this is not well and deserves our pity. Poor troll. Just launching troll shit into the void, knowing they will never, ever be what these women at GMG were. The vast majority of people on the internet don’t even leave a comment, let alone search for your social handles to harass you. Trolls are not the best gauge as to whether your story was a hit or not — the traffic is, and trolls seem to not grasp that hate clicks are still clicks. By angrily reading everything someone writes they’re just ensuring that this person will stay employed. Much like saying “I hate reading Trump and/or Kardashian stories. I wish the media would stop writing about them” only for every Trump and/or Kardashian story to go triple platinum traffic-wise demonstrates that you can hate something all the way down and then obsessively consume as much about that thing that you hate as you can.

Your words don’t match your choices.

This is why I always say I love all the Bravo Housewives even though a decent chunk of them are horrid people. But, I’m watching, right? I’m talking about it. I have a Peacock subscription and I’m regularly tuning in to almost every franchise. Therefore … I am “ a fan.” Does that mean I “like” these people and would buy their products or defend them tooth and nail online? Hell no. I am a spectator, a literal “gawker.” I don’t even KNOW them (and you don’t either). I have a completely agnostic view — I’m in it for the love of the drama, shade, fashions, and exposed fabrications. It doesn’t matter if it’s the glamorous but petty Monique Samuels, formerly of Real Housewives of Potomac, or her equally glamorous and petty rivals Gizelle Bryant and Robyn Dixon, whom I both met once at a live podcast taping. I own goofy decorative plates of all three of them because they’re fun to watch, even when they’re in the wrong or behaving poorly. I’m here for this mess, clearly, and I adore even the most trash Housewife. Unless they kill someone, I want to still see them on my TV. If I could watch Jen Shah in prison, I honestly would. And I can’t stand Teresa Guidice, yet am excited to see how she and her sister-in-law Melissa Gorga are going to co-exist on Real Housewives of New Jersey without committing homicide.

I’m basically my very sports-agnostic dad, who has no favorite teams, but favorite players, and he even enjoys the garbage athletes, teams, and coaches because he’s simply in it for the love of the game. He knows having someone to root against is just as fun as having someone to root for. He even goes deep into sports journalism. He religiously watches the likes of Stephen A. Smith even though he has nothing but complaints about his takes. But does he “hate” Stephen A.? God no! What would my dad watch if Stephen A. weren’t on ESPN ranting and raving? What would he have to talk about!? They won’t bring back his fav Jemele Hill and legendary sports broadcaster John Saunders is dead, taking his favorite sports program ESPN’s The Sports Reporters to the grave with him. He’s into sports because he truly loves it. Even when it’s lame. Even when he doesn’t agree. He just loves it for good and bad. Which to me is a healthy and normal approach.

Trolling is not. That is not healthy at all.

If you are truly miserable to the point that you have to fire off a nonsensical, venomous, offensive, hate-filled Twitter thread that you keep adding to for days on end until everyone blocks you, you should probably see a therapist. And there’s a big difference between a spirited, fun debate and just being a loon.

Don’t be a loon, you confused fan!

Because we all slip up, even I have fallen into the shock jock trap as a blogger only to eventually come out the faux outrage other side to recognize I was actually enjoying hate-watching this person. Why mock Fergie when you unironically listen to her bops? Why bemoan Janelle Monae for going from a suit to near-naked when you didn’t even buy or stream her albums back when she was fully clothed? Why bash Serena Williams when you’d pay almost anything to see her swing a racket again? Why wish for Jay-Z and Beyonce to fail when your hatred of them warms the cockles of your heart?

Like, that’s messed up that you need to hate something to feel alive, but do you, boo!

Also, news flash: The opposite of love is not actually hate, it’s indifference. Love and hate are hanging out on different ends of the same spectrum, sometimes teaming up. Indifference doesn’t even know your name. How often have you hate-watched a TV program? I used to call the reality TV show Dance Moms “child abuse theater” but I still hate-watched it until its “star” Abby Lee Miller went to prison. And I wanted to see SOMEONE finally beat Michael Jordan in a playoff so bad I was insulted when he retired from the NBA, unblemished. (And if you watched The Last Dance, he was kinda insulted that he didn’t get to play for the Bulls until someone beat him either!) Because as many people loved him, there were even more who just wanted to see him lose, and that fueled his fire. That gave him life. That made it exciting.

Just don’t FedEx your confused, one-sided beef to anyone’s front door. You’ll go to prison. And as a wise woman once said, “You ain’t about that life.”

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